Chapter 54 Dinner Plans
DINNER PLANS
MOLLY
It feels like a hundred years since I’ve been so happy, driving toward Roseville in a rental Corolla, fueled by the effervescent thought of how it'll feel to be in Grey's arms.
Beyond that, I feel like shit.
The emotional drain has taken such a toll on me, it looks like it's physically sucked the life out of me.
My eyes are hollow and smudged with dark circles, red from crying and a little bloodshot.
I look pale. Sad. I haven't slept well in days, despite the familiarity of my old room and all my old things.
Walking into that room had me feeling all kinds of strange, like I didn't know the girl who slept in that bed.
Like I didn't belong there anymore. It unnerved me as much as it brought me peace.
It was the only peace I found in Louisville.
I'm still raw from the fight that triggered me to leave.
Nothing about it was new--it was the same fight that we had the night of Dad's heart attack.
The same fight we've been having all week.
Well, that they've been having all week--they cut me off for dad's heart every time I try and argue. This time, I didn't let it go.
Dad's stable. Mom has a routine down. And I want to go home.
I'm so close I can taste it.
My aching chest warms, tingling at the thought of being wrapped up in Grey and blankets and my bed and my cat and--God, why did I even leave?
I should have stayed home, but Mom was so overwhelmed, and I was so upset.
I'm still not over my part in Dad's heart attack. But I'm over punishing myself for it.
And until my parents are going to treat me like an adult, they can fuck right off.
I didn't text Grey, wanting to surprise him. I'm dying to see the look on his face when I walk in the door, and as I turn onto my street, a wave of delirious giddiness washes over me. But then I pass the big tree a couple houses down from mine and can see my empty driveway.
All that joy flushes out of me like a toilet, and I'm just exhausted again.
I don't know where he is, but I'm sure he'll be home soon. At least Scout is inside. Maybe she'll take a little nap with me while we wait. Happy with that thought, I park the rental car and get my stuff. Climb the steps and slip my key in the lock.
It's unlocked.
Frowning, I open the door. Grey never would have left it unlocked in a million years. But I quit worrying when I hear music in the kitchen and the sounds and smells of cooking.
god,He's here!
"Grey?" I call, dropping my bag by the door, my heart thumping and hopeful as I head for the kitchen.
But I stop dead, my smile falling when Carlin turns around with a towel thrown over his shoulder and a strange, content smile on his face. A chill runs down my back at something in his eyes, a hard glint I've never seen before.
"Hey, Mols--you're finally home."
My brows quirk and I laugh awkwardly, confused. "Carlin? What are you doing here?"
He's casual. Warm. He turns to the oven and pulls on mitts. "I wanted to surprise you. I'm making chicken piccata, your fave."
He looks so normal here in my kitchen, like he's been here a thousand times.
Oh my god.
"How did you get in?" I ask quietly as he pulls the dish out of the oven and approaches.
"Oh--I made myself a key ages ago, just after he fixed the lock." He puts it on a hot plate between our place settings, all made up and waiting. "Come and sit," he soothes. "Dinner's almost ready." He heads back to the stove to dump the boiling pot of pasta into a strainer.
"Carlin, what is this?" I take a step back on instinct. "Where's Grey?"
"He's not here. It's just us." He winks at me over his shoulder.
My brain screams, taking stock of my surroundings and myself.
My purse is still on my shoulder, keys still in hand.
Pepper spray--I have the pepper spray, ironically given to me by him.
But can I find it and figure out how to use it before he stops me?
How far am I from the doors? He's between me and the back door, and I don't think I have enough lead to get away out the front.
He turns with a dish of pasta, takes a look at me. "What's wrong?"
"You're scaring me."
He chuckles. "Me scaring you? I'm not violent, Molly. You don't have to be afraid of me. I mean, it's not like I beat the shit out of somebody in front of half the town."
"I think you should go."
Carlin sets the dish down and turns to me, hardening. "Why? I've been here for hours cooking for us. I wanted to be with you. You've been gone or with him so much. I've barely seen you."
"I didn't ask you to come here." I'm backing away from him slowly, but he keeps pace with me.
"You didn't have to. I knew you'd need somebody after all the bullshit he put you through and your dad's heart attack. I brought you some books too! Now, come on. I know you're hungry--"
My stomach turns, my pulse loud in my ears. The danger I'm in mounts, recognition shuddering down my spine.
I take a different tack, try to keep my voice calm and even. At my sides, my hands fidget, my fingers twisting around my keys, readying them into a weapon. "Carlin, I really need some, um, time to myself. It's just been a lot, and I wanted to be alone for a bit."
"Let's see how you feel after dinner. Come on, everybody has to eat."
I bump into a dining chair. "Grey's going to be back soon."
At that, he smiles, but there's no joy in it. "Oh, no--he won't be back for hours. He's at your parents' house."
The air whooshes out of me. "My parents?" Did he come to get me? I should have called him. I should have fucking called him. Then I frown. "Wait--how do you know where he is?"
"I always know where he is," he says calmly. "I always know where you are, too."
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I jump. His eyes flick to my bag. And for a second, we're hung in a moment's hesitation.
And then I run.
I grab the chair I bumped into and throw it between us, but I don't hear him fall as I sprint for the door.
I'm reaching for the knob when his hand clamps my arm and pulls.
With a roar, I spin around, keys in my fist, the metal point jutting out from between my fingers, but it's all too fast to aim.
I hit him in the chest, and he grunts, his grip loosening a little.
Enough. I kick him in the knee, but I only get a few steps before he lunges for me in a desperate grab, catching me with both arms, pinning mine to my side.
Like I learned in self--defense class, I drop my weight, going limp, and unprepared, he loses his balance.
I drive my elbow back as hard as I can into his ribs, and he loses his grip completely, but both of us hit the ground.
I scramble up, taking off for the back door, not looking back, my eyes locked on the doorknob.
I don't know how far behind me he is, can't hear anything over my ragged breath and noisy pulse.
Almost there, almost--
My hand is on the doorknob, the door opening just a sliver, just a crack, hope springing in me, lost in the same moment he grabs me, yanking me back violently.
The door slams shut.
"Why'd you have to go and do that?" he pants in my ear, dragging me toward the table as I thrash.
I dropped my keys somewhere in the living room, my glasses too.
I have nothing else on me. He dumps me in a dining chair and grabs my wrists before I can fight him, pulling them behind me.
He's so strong, so much stronger than I realized as he zip ties me to the rungs of the old, thrifted chair, breathless and angry. "I didn't want to have to do this."
"Why?" I shout, my voice frayed. "Why are you doing this?"
"I hoped you'd sit with me, talk to me. We've never talked, not about us."
"Us?" I snap as he drops to his knees at my side, and I try to kick at him, but he snatches my ankle and binds me to a chair leg. "What do you mean, us? I'm with Grey. I love Grey."
He flashes his teeth, his eyes wild. "Why would you fucking say that?
How could you say that to me? I've always had your back, Molly--always.
I've always been here for you. I have always been here.
" With a huff, he moves around my back to my other leg.
"From the very beginning, from the first time we ever met--" He struggles to get my ankle as I kick, my foot connecting with his chest. He lets out an oof, but that was my one shot--he clamps my ankle and forces it do the chair leg.
"It was perfect. We love all the same things.
We're the same age. We make each other laugh and smile and feel good.
" When I'm fully restrained, he stands, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.
I'm fighting the zip ties, the plastic cutting into my wrists, but I barely feel it.
He notices, bends to put his hand over my wrists gently and kiss the top of my head.
"Don't fight it, babe--you'll hurt yourself. "
I bite back the nastiest fuck you I have ever screamed. I can't make him mad. I don't know what'll happen if I do.
I try and calm down when he disappears for a second, coming back with my glasses. He's cleaning them off with his shirt, watching me.
"I've been waiting for this, for you," he says, checking the lenses before situating them back on my face.
"Before him, I thought we were almost there, you know?
Didn't think coach would make a move. "He pushes in my chair and takes the seat catty-cornered to mine, then begins to dish out food.
The smell of it makes my stomach turn. "He fucked up my whole plan.
And then you were together all the time.
I couldn't see you anymore, not without him around. We couldn't talk. About us."
There is no us! I fight to keep my face neutral and my mouth shut. My phone is buzzing in my purse, I can hear it from here. So can he--his gaze cuts in that direction, annoyed.